


24

by house_of_lantis



Category: 24, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:54:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/house_of_lantis/pseuds/house_of_lantis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Counter Terrorism Center (CTC), based out of Los Angeles, CA. Jensen Ackles is the Director of Field Operations and is currently taking the first vacation in two years. He’s called back into the office due to a terrible train bombing. Jensen discovers that Jared Padalecki, a former CTC agent who is working for SenTec Industries, may be one of the people responsible for the attack. Jensen is hot the trail of Jared – not just a former colleague, but a former lover – as he tries to stop further attempts of domestic terrorism.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 2:00 PM Pacific Standard Time (PST)

The number 7231 train left Los Angeles Union Station for San Diego on time at 1:30 PM. The 14 passenger car train pulled away from the station, moving smoothly along its outdoor tracks, and was passing the industrial section of the downtown area when a series of three explosions, so powerful that it lifted the trains off its tracks, the sound of steel and iron and human screams merging into a single cacophony of death and deliberate destruction.

Jared Padalecki stood on a raised hill, overlooking the tracks. He pulled the binoculars from his eyes and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, hitting the number 3 on speed dial.

“It’s done,” he said, softly. “Right on time.”

“Meet me at my office.”

“Yes, sir.”

***

Jensen Ackles strolled along the boardwalk of Venice Beach. He loved the feel of the warmth on his face, even though it only made his freckles darken on his fair skin. It was a trade-off that he didn’t mind paying, especially if it allowed him a couple of hours out in the sunlight, around people who moved past him with appreciative smiles and hopeful offers in their eyes – all of these people who lived with a sense of safety and peace. It made what he did worthwhile: the long hours in a mentally demanding job; the sacrifices to his personal life; the emotionality of facing death; and the physical toll it put on his body.

As Director of Field Operations for Counter Terrorism Center – CTC for those in the know – Jensen knew he held a position that put him in harm’s way, but better him than all of these people who did not know what was out there, just moments away from destroying their way of life.

And he wanted to keep it that way – ignorance was bliss.

His cell phone rang and he stopped, leaning against the low wall. He looked at the small screen. JD Morgan, Director of CTC. With a sigh, he flipped open the phone and held it against his ear.

“Ackles.”

“Jensen, I hate to do this, but I need you back at CTC immediately.”

Jensen pushed off from the low wall and started walking quickly back towards his SUV in the public parking lot. “What happened?”

“Train bombing. Three bombs derailed a 14-car train out of LA to San Diego 15 minutes ago. Emergency rescue is on the scene. Right now, we’ve got 86 killed and 23 injured and they’re still pulling bodies out of the wreckage.”

Bodies, not people, Jensen heard. “I’m at Venice Beach right now. Have Mike send me the coordinates for the location of the train to my Blackberry and I’ll drive there directly—“

“I’m sending a CTC helicopter to pick you up. ETA should be five minutes. Mike tracked you down from your cell phone signal – he said you wouldn’t have gone far even if you were on vacation.”

Jensen made a face, but knew it was the truth. “Where’s the pick up point?”

“East parking lot.”

Jensen shielded his hand over his sunglasses and looked around, seeing the blip of the helicopter coming towards him. “I see it now.”

“After you review the scene, come back to CTC.”

“I will,” Jensen said, hanging up the phone. He squinted behind his sunglasses as he watched the helicopter with the CTC logo begin its landing approach. Jensen ducked low and made his way to the helicopter as it landed on the parking lot, the force of the rotors picking up loose sand and small stones around him.

He ran low to the passenger side of the helicopter. The pilot nodded to him as Jensen opened the door, sliding into the seat. He reached for the headphones, pulling them on and adjusting the mic.

“I’m Jensen Ackles, Field Ops,” Jensen said into the mic. “You’re to take me to the scene of the wreckage and then to CTC HQ.”

“Yes, sir.” The pilot said, checking to make sure that he was in the clear, lifting the helicopter off the ground expertly and moving sound of the city.

Jensen sighed to himself, only a little regretful at leaving behind his first day of vacation. His heart was racing, adrenaline spiking through his body, and he felt alive and alert, ready to face whatever the challenges of the day would bring him.

***

Jared drove his car into the warehouse area on the LA Port Authority docks. A dozen men stood as guards, holding automatic weapons in their hands. Jared lowered his tinted window and looked at the guard who waved him further inside the warehouse.

He parked the car and looked around, taking the stairs to the offices on the upper levels. The guard at the door saw him and opened the door as he came closer.

Inside the office, Jared saw four men and one woman. Jared tucked his hands inside his black leather jacket, fingers grazing his gun. He trusted them for the time being, but in his line of work, trust was a double edged sword.

“Good work with the trains,” John Glover said, standing up and straightening his necktie.

Jared gave him a nod.

“Are you positioned for the next target?”

“For the next three,” he said, softly. “Hospital, elementary school, and shopping mall.”

John smiled, walking towards him. Jared stared at the older man, handsome with his head of hair and neat beard. “My colleagues and I were, at first, skeptical of your ability to carry out our work. You can understand our hesitance. But it seems that your reputation precedes you.” He motioned to the tea service set on the table. “Care for a cup?”

“No, thank you.”

“Ahhh…then to business,” John said, chuckling softly. He turned and looked at the young man behind the computer. “Send it, Charles.”

“Yes, sir,” the computer geek said, typing quickly and expertly.

Jared pulled out his Blackberry, tapping a series of numbers. He accessed his international bank account in Zurich.

“Sending now.”

Jared looked up at John and then looked at the screen to his Blackberry. In just seconds, he saw the $15 million dollar amount on his screen. Jared quickly began to divide the funds, disbursing them to three other bank accounts. He shut down his Blackberry and nodded at John.

“We’ll be in touch,” John said, smiling at him.

“I’ll be ready.” Jared said and then looked at the people in the room one last time as he turned to leave.

He moved quickly out of the office and down the stairs to his car below. He started the engine, driving slowly out of the warehouse. He checked his rear view mirror several times as he left the warehouse. He checked behind him a number of times as he hit highway 110, even taking a few side streets in case he was being followed. Being overly paranoid wasn’t just a result of his particular work; it was the only way to survive in his world.

***

Jensen could see the smoke hovering in the air over the scene of the wreck. He counted nine passenger cars that were off the rails – fires still consuming some of the cars, red and blue emergency rescue lights flashing around the site.

“Patch me through to CTC HQ,” he said to the pilot.

“Counter Terrorism Center.”

“It’s Jensen Ackles. I need to talk to Comms.”

A moment later. “Comms. Rosenbaum.”

“Mike,” he said into the mic, looking down at the wreckage scene. He looked at the pilot, making a circling motion with his fingers. The pilot understood and began a wide spiral over the area to give Jensen a chance to see the full extent of the scene. “What do you know?”

“Three improvised explosive devices along the train route exploded at 2 PM, Jensen,” Mike said.

“Do you know where the IEDs came from?” Jensen said, pinpointing the three areas where the bombs exploded. Despite the horror of the wreckage, Jensen’s expert eyes knew what to look for. Some said that it was a gift to be able to see beyond the human element, to separate him from life and death in order to get the job done. Jensen was sure that his significant others didn’t think it was a “gift” that he could shut down his emotions.

“Samples are being brought to CTC now so that we can do a chemical analysis,” Mike said. “Sorry for calling you in during your first vacation in two years.”

“It’s all right, Mike,” Jensen said, meaning it.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, I know you’d rather be working than hanging out without Ja—“

“Possible suspects?”

“Intel is working on the list now, but if the bomb materials aren’t unique, then it could’ve been anyone who had a grudge against—“

“I understand that, Mike, but even a bomb without unique signatures is still a known quantity.”

“I was just saying.”

Jensen frowned, looking at the number of black body bags lined up along the side of the wreckage but away from the survivors and the media. “Do you have any satellite scans of the area prior to the explosions?”

“I can get them.”

“Give me a 10-mile radius and send them to my Blackberry. I’m en route to CTC now,” Jensen said, nodding to the pilot that he had seen enough.

“Will do.”

Jensen made the cut off motion with his hand for the call. He pulled his Blackberry from his pocket. Mike was sending him satellite images. Jensen quickly scanned through the dozen pictures. He was looking for something in particular. He wanted to see all the satellite scans prior to the explosion. If his hunch was right – most times he was right – then he’d be able to spot an anomaly.

He continued scanning the pictures, his eidetic memory organizing the images in his mind. He frowned slightly, seeing a single difference from one scan to another. The first one was taken five minutes before the explosion. The next series were taken ten minutes after the explosion. He flipped back and forth, letting his eyes and his experiences take him to the answer.

And then he saw it. There was a shadow of a car in the scans before the explosion, but it was gone in the series after the explosion. Jensen squinted at his Blackberry screen.

“Can you connect me to CTC again?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Counter Terrorism Center.”

“It’s Ackles again. I need Comms.”

“Comms. Rosenbaum.”

“Mike, I want you to look at satellite scan 32985 and zoom in on quadrant 35-14-98.”

“Okay, I got it, Jensen. Enlarging now. It’s a man standing outside of a car. He’s got binoculars.”

“Send it to me,” Jensen said, looking at the updated pictures on his Blackberry screen. “Can you zoom in on the next series – on his face – when he pulls the binoculars away?”

“I’m cleaning up the images now,” Mike said. Jensen could hear the frenetic tap of fingers on a keyboard. Mike hissed out a sound. “What?”

“Jensen…you’re not going to believe this.”

“Send me the picture.”

Jensen stared at his Blackberry screen and saw a blurred black and white image of a familiar face – a once trusted colleague, friend, and lover.

“Damn it!” Jensen slammed his fist against the door of the helicopter.

“I’m sorry, Jensen.”

Jensen glared at the image of Jared Padalecki on the small screen of his Blackberry. What the hell was he doing? Jensen’s eyes traced the stoic lines of the handsome face. Jared wore a hard expression, cold and unfeeling as he witnessed the explosion of the trains. When had he betrayed them all?

2:59 PM PST.


	2. 3:00 PM PST

SenTec Industries  
Downtown Los Angeles

Jared pulled his car into the underground parking garage from Wilshire Avenue. He had doubled back a few times, just to check to see if anyone was following him. He parked in his reserved space and got out, locking his vehicle with his remote, the headlights flashing and the horn letting out a soft beep. His training kicked in and he scanned the garage, listening for sounds of an approaching car or footsteps, and then began his walk to the bank of elevators, hitting the up button.

The elevator doors opened on the 24th floor – plush corporate offices in neutral colors, so wonderfully deceptive, hiding the nature of weaponry that SenTec Industries produced behind closed doors – and Jared walked quickly towards his office, a large glass-enclosed reception area designed to put people at ease while they discussed multiple ways to design man-made weapons of destruction.

Jared Padalecki. Vice President. Research and Development Division.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Sandra McCoy said as Jared gave her a smile, walking to the double doors of his inner office. She was his executive assistant and the best go-to professional he had ever encountered.

“Any messages?”

Sandy followed him into the office and Jared carefully patted his gun in his jacket pocket. “James Beaver called. I put him through to your voicemail. You have a meeting with—“

“Please cancel all my appointments for the rest of the day,” Jared said, walking to his desk and turning on his laptop.

She gave him a curious look. “Sure, I can do that. Is anything wrong?”

He looked up at her, shaking his head. “Something unexpected came up and I need to be out of the office in half an hour.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Keep the department going,” Jared said, smiling at her. He thought that she could probably do it, too.

Sandy laughed softly, walking towards the door. “If there’s anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, Sandy.” He said, watching as she closed the door as she left his inner office.

Jared sighed, picking up his phone. He pressed the code to access his voicemail while he booted up his laptop.

“The package will be ready at 9 PM tonight for delivery. Long Beach Airport, hangar four.”

Jared made a mental note, then deleted the message and hung up the phone. He checked his e-mail and scanned the dozen messages in his inbox for anything that needed his immediate attention. He forwarded half his messages to Sandy’s inbox, knowing that she’d take care of the project questions.

Spinning in his chair, he bent to open the door to the low cabinets behind his desk. There was an embedded safe inside the cabinet. He pressed in the 6-digit pass code and rolled his thumb on the bio scanner. A moment later, the safe door opened and Jared reached in, pulling out a slim aluminum briefcase.

He stood and used his key card to access his private stairwell to the roof access and helipad. He turned in a circle, sharp eyes checking to make sure that he was absolutely alone. He placed the briefcase on the ledge and opened it. Inside was a portable military issue satellite phone. He picked it up, checked the charge, and turned it on. He dialed in a number from memory and placed the phone against his ear.

The phone didn’t sound a ring. Instead, a soft voice asked, “access code.”

“Delta Foxtrot Alpha 4-7-1-9.”

There was a series of beeps. Jared waited patiently as he was connected to a secure line through a number of unregistered cell towers.

“Yes?”

“Delivery at 9 PM at Long Beach Airport, hangar four.”

“Confirmed.”

Jared ended the call and then turned off the sat phone. He tucked it back into the molded interior of the briefcase. He let out a soft sigh, his lower belly fluttering in unease for just a moment. He stared at his hand as it trembled slightly. With a frown, Jared took a deep breath, pushing down his fear. He clenched his hand tightly for a few seconds and then released the tense muscles. His hand was steady again.

***

Counter Terrorism Center  
Los Angeles

Jensen walked through the open bullpen area of CTC. He crossed the room towards Communications. With a quick glance, he saw JD watching him from his second floor office, giving him a nod.

“Mike,” Jensen said, coming around the bank of computer monitors to stand beside Michael Rosenbaum, Director of Communication Command. He looked up to see that Mike had already pulled up Jared’s professional files on a screen. Jensen stared at Jared’s digital picture, his dimples barely showing from the small smile.

“I didn’t recognize you in your civilian clothes,” Mike said, looking over Jensen’s white sweater and light brown khakis.

“It’s not like I’m going to wear my suit on the beach,” Jensen said, smiling slightly. “Show me the images from the satellite.”

On another screen, Jensen looked at the black and white image of Jared on a hill, a few miles from the train bombing site.

“We’ve released a cover story to the media that the explosions were due to mechanical failure and derailment,” JD said, standing beside him.

Jensen nodded. “That should buy us some time to figure out if this was an isolated incident or if this was a first strike with more to come.”

“Meet us in the Situation Room,” JD said, looking at Jensen and at Mike. “We need to brief the White House.”

Jensen and Mike followed JD across the bullpen to the conference room on the other side of the building.

“Hey, sorry about you finding out that Jared may be a terrorist,” Mike murmured, quietly.

“It’s unconfirmed,” Jensen said, nearly growling.

“Satellite imagery doesn’t lie. Don’t bite my head off, Jensen,” Mike said, making a face. “I know how important he was to you. I mean, you guys were together for like three years and—“

“It’s over now,” Jensen cut in, brusquely. “Stay on task, Mike. I don’t think my past relationship with Jared has anything to do with what we need to do.”

“Okay,” Mike said, opening the door to the bullpen.

Jensen stepped into the room and took a seat. He nodded to Tom Welling, Director of Intelligence, and Chad Murray, Director of Security. They all took a seat and Mike brought up the images of Jared and his personnel file on the bank of screens lining the far wall. JD dialed the direct line to the White House.

“Yes?”

“Madam President, this is Jeffrey Dean Morgan of the Counter Terrorism Center in Los Angeles. I have you on speaker phone. I have with me the Directors of Field Ops, Comms, Intel, and Security.”

“Good. Maybe we’ll get some answers to what happened an hour ago,” President Samantha Ferris said, her voice low and husky over the speakers. “I have my Chief of Staff with me in the Oval Office. Feel free to start.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” JD said, pacing the room. “Hello, Sterling.”

“JD.” Sterling Brown said, his deep voice echoing into the situation room. “Can you tell us if you’ve been able to track down who did this?”

“We have reason to believe that Jared Padalecki may have a connection to today’s train bombing. We captured an image of him within a ten mile radius of the incident site. We’ve dedicated our assets to—“

“Padalecki! Are you telling me that a former member – a former Director of Intelligence of the CTC is behind this attack?” The President said, her voice incredulous.

“Unconfirmed, but he is a primary suspect.”

“How did this happen, Jeffrey?” Sterling said. “How did we lose him?”

“Jared voluntarily and unexpectedly resigned his position two years ago and is currently working as a VP of R&D at SenTec Industries.”

Jensen flicked his eyes to the large plasma monitors on the walls, reading Jared’s accomplishments with the CIA. He had earned four medals of Honor that would never be public knowledge. Jared was a prized agent in the CIA and Jensen had recruited him into the CTC.

“Have you located Jared Padalecki for questioning?”

“We just learned about his connection. Field Ops will make the initial contact.” JD looked at Jensen and he nodded stoically. “We’ll also investigate that this may be the first of multiple attacks.”

“Do you know any reason why this particular train was attacked?”

“Not at this time, ma’am, but we’ve assigned all of our assets to make that determination as well.”

“Keep us posted, Jeffrey Dean,” the President finally said, stopping for a long pause.

“Yes, Madam President.”

JD ended the call and looked at Jensen. “I need you in the field.”

“I’ll take Chad and a tactical team to SenTec. We’ll need to go in dark,” Jensen told him, standing.

“I’ll have my team geared up in five minutes,” Chad said, leaving the situation room.

JD turned to Tom. “I need to know everything that there is to know about Jared and what he’s been doing for the last two years.”

“We’ve already started a profile on him,” Tom said, glancing at Jensen. “There aren’t any red flags so far, but it’s just the first pass.”

“Check to see if Jared’s met with any of the assets that he cultivated during his time with the CIA and with us,” Jensen said, nodding to Tom.

“You got it.”

Jensen ran a hand over his head. “Mike, can you set up an ID for me that’ll get me into SenTec?”

“It’ll take me about ten minutes.”

“All right, get started. It has to be completed by the time we get to SenTec,” Jensen said, following Chad.

“Jensen – a moment.” JD called after him.

He paused, facing JD. “I can handle it.”

“I know you won’t allow your personal history with Jared affect your investigation,” JD said, walking towards him. “I would’ve put you back on vacation if I thought otherwise. Just be careful. You know how he thinks – but he knows how you think, too.”

Jensen nodded at him and turned, leaving the situation room. He raced across the bullpen to the armory. As soon as he stepped into the gears room, he started pulling off his white sweater. He moved to his assigned locker, opening it and pulling out his suit. He saw that Chad and four of his security ops team were already dressed in their field gear, leather jackets covering their holsters.

Jensen dressed quickly. He pulled his holster from inside the locker, putting it on. He was about to close the locker door when he stopped and then reached for his ankle holster, wrapping it around his right ankle. He smoothed down his dress pant leg. Jensen looped his necktie over his neck and kicked the locker door shut with the toe of his dress shoes and then walked towards the weapons wall.

Quickly, he checked out a CTC regulation Sig Sauer, strapping it into the holster. He took a small caliber Beretta and tucked it into his ankle holster. The weapons master always kept their contingent of weaponry in top condition and fully loaded.

Jensen looked up to see Chad’s security ops team leaving the armory. Chad waited for him at the door and Jensen started to fix his necktie, heading towards him.

***

The White House  
Washington, D.C.  
6:10 PM Eastern Standard Time (EST)

President Samantha Ferris sat behind her desk, eyeing Sterling. “Can we send someone to CTC to report objectively on the situation?”

“You don’t believe Morgan can do the job?”

“I have a lot of respect for Jeffrey Dean, but I don’t want to see CTC compromised by a former member of the agency – if Jared Padalecki is indeed behind the attack,” the President said, softly. “I have to be assured that Jeffrey Dean Morgan can maintain his objectivity.”

“Homeland Security has a division in Los Angeles,” Sterling said, opening his briefing portfolio, clicking his pen. “I can have Misha Collins sent to CTC for crisis management.”

The President narrowed her eyes. “I want Misha Collins to be able to take over CTC if he feels that the situation gets out of control.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

***

SenTec Industries  
Downtown Los Angeles

“I can’t believe that Jared would have anything to do with that attack.”

Jensen grimaced, nodding. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

“He was my best friend since we were in middle school – Jared is not a terrorist.” Chad nearly growled at him.

“I want to believe that, too.”

Jensen rode with Chad in the CTC SUV en route to SenTec Industries. A second vehicle followed with Chad’s tac team. Jensen’s Blackberry rang and he connected his earpiece to the Blackberry.

“What do you have for me, Mike?”

“You’re the Director of Alamcon Armory and you have Top Secret clearance to SenTec. I’ve uploaded your image and your credentials to their databases so you can get through security without a hitch,” Mike said.

“Thanks, Mike.”

Chad pulled the vehicle into the parking lot, scoping out the lobby through the glass windows.

Jensen ended the call, pulling the earpiece away from his ear. He tucked it into his jacket pocket. “I want you and your team to stay invisible and to watch for exiting vehicles.”

“Jen—“ Chad began, frowning slightly.

“What?”

“Proceed with caution,” Chad said, shaking his head. “Stay on channel 3 Bravo if you need back-up.”

“I will,” Jensen said, getting out of the vehicle. He walked into the front lobby and headed for the security desk, pulling out his wallet.

“Hey, good afternoon,” Jensen said, handing over his driver’s license. “I’ve got an appointment with R&D.”

Jensen looked over the security guard’s shoulder at the SenTec directory. He saw that J. Padalecki, VP, Research and Development, was located on the 24th floor. Room 2469-A.

The security guard scanned his driver’s license and tapped a few keys. He gave Jensen a long look and then looked at his computer screen. Jensen gave him a bored smile – let’s get this over with – and the security guard handed over his driver’s license and visitor’s ID card.

“Thanks,” Jensen said, clipping the ID card to his jacket lapel. He scanned the lobby and walked towards the bank of elevators. He stepped in and then placed his earpiece into his ear discreet, calling Mike again.

“Comms.”

“It’s me,” Jensen said, softly. “I’m in the elevator on my way to the 24th floor.”

“I’m pulling up the building blue prints now,” Mike said. “What room?”

“It’s 2469-A.”

“When you get off the elevator, go right and down the hall. His offices are located on the left.”

“Okay,” Jensen said, then stepped out of the elevator. He looked down both ends of the long and brightly lit hallway, checking out the number designation of the offices. He walked into Jared’s offices and smiled, looking at the nameplate on the desk of the attractive young woman guarding Jared’s inner office.

“Hi,” he said, brightly. “I seem to be a little lost. I’m supposed to be in room 2467-B and I think I got all turned around.”

“It happens,” she said, smiling. “Just go back out into the hallway, go right and it’s four doors down, past the elevators.”

“Thanks,” he said, grinning at her again. Sandra McCoy.

“You’re very welcome.”

Jensen left the offices and tucked into an alcove, pulling his Blackberry from his pocket. “Mike, I need for you to create a distraction for Jared’s secretary to leave her office. Her name is Sandra McCoy.”

“All right, give me minute,” Mike said, clicking to a second line. “I’m looking up her number now.”

A moment later, Jensen listened in as Mike called Sandra’s extension.

“This is Sandy.”

“Hey Sandy, this is John from the lobby. There’s a package here that needs your signature. I can’t send him up – he doesn’t have clearance. Can you come down and sign for it?”

“Sure, I’ll be right down,” she said, sighing.

“Thanks, Mike,” Jensen said, ending the call. He tucked his earpiece back into his pocket and acted like he was checking something on his Blackberry. He saw Sandy walk past him to the elevators. He waited until he hear the soft bell of the elevator and the soft swoosh of the elevator doors opening.

Jensen stepped out of the alcove and began walking quickly towards Jared’s office. He passed Sandy’s desk and walked to the door, pressing his ear against the door in an effort to hear something. He pulled out his Sig Sauer and placed his hand on the doorknob, turning it slowly and fully, then opening the door and stepping inside, hands holding up the gun in the empty room.

Always check your six.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Jared’s shadow. He turned but Jared knocked his wrist away, a sharp piercing pain shuddered through his entire body, burning along his nerves. The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Jared holding a shape-pulse taser in his hand.

***

Jensen jerked to consciousness with the sting of ammonia in his nose. He hated smelling salts. He looked up to see Jared standing over him. Jensen found his wrists handcuffed behind him. Jared had tossed him on the couch.

“Hey,” Jared said, leaning over him. “You with me?”

Jensen narrowed his eyes, glaring up at him. “You fucking tasered me!”

“You were armed,” Jared said, sighing softly. He grabbed hold of Jensen’s hair and moved closer, brushing his lips against Jensen’s cheek. Jensen clenched his teeth, putting every effort into controlling any kind of reaction to Jared’s touch. “God, you are still so gorgeous. I molested you a little bit while you were unconscious.”

“Did you blow up that train?”

Jared met his eyes and stroked his hand through Jensen’s hair. With a small smile, Jared stood up and moved towards his desk. Jensen struggled against the couch, moving to sit up and gather the rest of his wits.

Jensen watched as Jared packed his briefcase. He checked the chamber of the Sig and set it on the corner of his desk, looking across the room at Jensen.

“Are you going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Jared started to walk across the room. “It was good to see you again, Jen. I really missed you.”

Jensen braced his feet against the floor and launched himself off the couch. He barreled into Jared, but Jared saw him coming and punched him in the stomach. Jensen let out a moan, falling on the carpet. He kicked out with his leg and caught Jared on the upper thigh, bringing him to his knees. They stared at each other for a long moment and Jared pulled back his arm and slammed his fist against Jensen’s face, then a sharp elbow into his guts.

Jensen groaned, falling on his side, winded, his arms strained. He blinked, glaring up at Jared, who reached down and ran his hand across Jensen’s neck.

“Don’t come after me, Jensen,” Jared murmured, rubbing his thumb against Jensen’s earlobe. “You’ll never understand what I’m doing.”

“Damn it, Jared! Why don’t you explain it to me? I can help you!”

Jared stood up and picked up his briefcase, leaving the office quickly. Jensen took a few deep breaths, trying to get past the pain. He moved to his knees, groaning loudly as his weight pulled against his shoulders. His wrists were burning in the handcuffs behind his back.

With a grunt, Jensen made it to his feet and walked to Jared’s desk. He got around and started opening the drawers, looking for supplies. He found a small container of large paperclips. He turned and grabbed one with his fingers and began to unfold the paperclip. He bit his lip in concentration as he bent the middle of the paperclip over his index finger so that it was in an oblong U-shape.

His fingers found the base of the handcuff and felt the small opening for the key. He slipped the two prongs of the paperclip ends into the opening and began using a very delicate touch to unlock the inner springs. He heard the tell-tale click of the cuff opening.

“Stupid fucker,” Jensen muttered to himself as he slipped the paperclip in his freed hand and began work on the other one. It opened quickly and he dropped them on the floor. He picked up his Sig Sauer, checking to make sure that it was still loaded, and tore out of Jared’s office.

He wouldn’t take the elevator – Jared must know that Jensen wouldn’t come alone, that he’d bring Chad with him. Jensen ran down the hallway and looked out the wall-to-ceiling windows and saw the reflection of the helicopter as it circled the top of the building.

Roof access.

Jensen ran down the hallway towards the nearest exit door and slammed through it, running up the stairs to the top of the building. Carefully, Jensen opened the door and looked out, keeping his weapon in front of him. He checked his six and then stepped onto the roof, keeping his head low and looking around.

He saw Jared trotting towards the helicopter, keeping his head lowered. Jensen took cover against a low wall, propping his arms over the ledge. He fired two rounds past Jared’s shoulder, hitting the exterior of the helicopter, two sparks registering. Fucking bullet resistant helicopter. That was military grade.

Jared turned and looked at Jensen.

“Jared!”

Jared reached into his jacket and pulled out his gun, firing back. Jensen ducked low behind the concrete wall, hearing the bullets slam into the thick plaster. Jensen took a moment to take a quick peek and saw Jared stepping into the helicopter.

Jensen ran across the roof to another concrete wall where he could take cover. He raised his Sig Sauer and took two more shots, the bullets ricocheted off the helicopter again.

“Damn it!” Jensen screamed, watching as the helicopter started to lift off from the roof top.

Jensen radioed in on channel 3. “Murray! We’re on the roof! Jared is taking off in a helicopter. Get Mike to put the satellites on this quadrant and track him!”

“Affirmative,” Chad intoned over the radio.

Jensen stopped firing, staring up at Jared. They met eyes for a long moment. Jared gave him a brief nod and Jensen wished that Jared had just given him a smug look – something – to show that he had changed, that he had found pleasure in what he had done. But the look on Jared’s face was one of regret.

Jensen watched in frustration as the helicopter made a wide circle and began to head south of the city.

***

Counter Terrorism Center  
Los Angeles

Jensen headed straight for Mike. “Got anything?”

“Sorry, Jensen, the satellites were out of target range.”

“Damn it!”

Jensen walked across the room to Tom. “Did you get a list of Jared’s assets?”

“There’s an information broker named Alona Tal that Jared’s worked with in the past,” Tom said, bringing up the profile on the pretty blonde woman.

“Where is she?”

“She’s in Los Angeles – and it’s not a coincidence that she’s in the city. Mike’s downloaded Jared’s office number and he’s spoken to her twice in the past month.”

Jensen looked at the picture of Alona, memorizing her face. “Where is she now?”

“Kyoto Grand Hotel, in Little Tokyo, downtown,” Mike called from across the room. “She checked in three days ago under the alias Joanne Harvelle.”

“Get Chad’s team back in the cars,” Jensen said to Tom. He turned to Mike. “And keep trying to find that helicopter—“

“Jensen!”

Jensen stopped to see JD walking towards him with a brown haired man with a small smile on his face. “What is it? I’m just about to go and interview one of Jared’s assets.”

“Jensen, this is Misha Collins from Homeland Security’s LA Regional Offices. He’s here to observe and report to the White House on our activities.”

Jensen gave Misha an assessing look: a desk bureaucrat, never been in the field.

“This is Jensen Ackles, Director of Field Operations.”

Jensen gave Misha a quick handshake. He looked at JD. “I’m taking Chad out to the Kyoto Grand in Little Tokyo—“

“I understand that the primary suspect of today’s train bombing is Jared Padalecki, former CTC Director of Intel,” Misha said, looking at Jensen.

“Yeah.” Jensen said, brusquely. “Look, I don’t have time to chat. JD can brief you on the situation. I need to head out—“

“I also understand that you and Jared were lovers for three years—“

“Are you implying something?” Jensen said, narrowing his eyes at Misha.

“Not at all, Jensen,” Misha said, smoothly. “I’m merely gathering all of the information that I need in order to make a thorough report to the President.”

“You have my files; you can report whatever you want to the President. I’m trying to prevent further domestic terrorist attacks,” Jensen said, looking to JD.

“Keep us posted,” JD said, nodding for Jensen to leave.

“Tom! Keep feeding me intel!” Jensen called as he hurried out of the bullpen.

***

Los Angeles Port Authority

“…further developments as they come. But for now, officials are calling it a mechanical failure and derailment. Back to you, Charles.”

John Glover turned off the television news program and turned to his four colleagues.

“Surface transportation of the 15 cylinders of Cyanogen Chloride is en route. With the train explosion, all commercial trains are halted for the next 24 hours and only military cargo trains will be moving on the rails,” John said to his colleagues.

“We would like to see a demonstration of the Cyanogen Chloride as promised, Mr Glover.”

“Of course,” John said, nodding to his computer technician. “Show them the tape.”

The computer tech puts in the videotape and cues it up on the television. They watch as the television screen shows four people of varying ages, gender, and ethnicity pacing nervously in the enclosed room.

“When the Cyanogen Chloride is introduced into the air, you can see that it only take minutes for it to take effect,” John murmured as they watched the four people suddenly began choking, falling to the ground. “Within three minutes, the symptoms presented are choking, convulsions, coughing, vomiting, and blood begins to hemorrhage from the eyes, nose, ears, and mouth.”

The four victims of the toxic chemical agent begin to twitch in death, blood covering their bodies and the floor.

“The military cargo train carrying the cylinders are on their way to the Tooele Army Depot in Utah for disposal. If Padalecki is on schedule, he will create a series of emergency situations that will keep the rescue squads quite focused elsewhere, leaving the military cargo train open for hijacking.”

“When is the next target?”

John smiled at his colleagues. “It’s a hospital in downtown Los Angeles and the second strike will occur at 5 o’clock tonight.”

3:59 PM PST


	3. 4:00 PM PST

Kyoto Grand Hotel  
Little Tokyo

Jensen knocked on the door outside Penthouse Suite 1260. He straightened his necktie and cleared his throat. He flicked his eyes to Chad and the three-man tactical squad lined along the hallway, out of sight. He thought it was a low probability that Alona Tal would be armed, but he wasn’t going to bet his life on it.

“Yes?” She called from the other side of the door.

“Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Charles from the Front Desk. There’s a problem with your credit card and we need for you to come downstairs to clear up the issue.”

Jensen heard the security locks opening. He looked at the young blonde haired woman, scowling at him. She was dressed in a floral silk robe and from the way that the silk clung to her slender form, not much else underneath.

“What problem?” She demanded, crossly.

“A very big problem,” Jensen said, pushing the door open and grabbing the woman by her throat. Chad and the tactical team entered the room, closing the door behind them.

“Get the fuck off me!” She screeched, kicking out at Jensen.

He neatly side-stepped her kicks and slammed her against the wall. He heard Chad directing the tactical team to clear the rooms.

“Clear!”

“Clear!”

“We’re all clear.”

Jensen released his hand on her throat and grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into the living room area and pushing her to sit on the sofa. “Alona Tal, I’m Jensen Ackles, Director of Field Operations for the Counter Terrorism Center.”

She grinned up at him. “Do you have a warrant?”

“I don’t need a warrant. We fall under the jurisdiction of the Patriot Act; and we know that you are an accomplice to a direct attack on American soil.”

“That’s crazy!” She said, frowning up at him. “I want a lawyer, right now!”

“I can keep you in custody for 24 hours without charging you, so you don’t need a lawyer,” he said, playing it tough.

“Then I don’t have anything to say,” she said, smartly. She crossed her legs, the silk robe falling apart, revealing that she did wear nothing under it.

Jensen smirked. “Sorry, but you’re not the right gender.”

He nearly laughed when he caught her little moue of annoyance. “When was the last time you spoke or met with Jared Padalecki?”

“Jared Pada-who?” She said, glancing up at him.

“I know why you’re in town,” he said, glaring at her. “Your reputation as an information broker precedes you.”

“I’m so flattered. Look, I’m just in town for vacation,” she said, sighing. “I’m entitled to take some time off from work, too.”

“What did you sell him?”

She grinned again, raising her eyebrow. “What do you think I sold him?”

Jensen wrapped his hand around her throat, pressing her hard into the sofa. “I’m not playing anymore of your silly little girl game. We can do this the easy way or we can do this in a way that will be very, very painful for you.”

“Very, very…not just very painful. You’re really scaring me, being all domineering and manly for a fag.” Alona said, assessing him coolly.

Jensen smirked, tightening his hold on her neck. “Pissed off because I don’t find you the least bit attractive, huh?”

“Actually, I don’t believe you’ll hurt me.”

“I won’t even have to touch you,” he growled, smiling at her. “You see that guy right there?” He motioned his head towards Chad. He watched as Alona turned her eyes to look over Chad. Chad showed her his iceman gaze in return. “He’s head of security. He’s in charge of interrogating stubborn little girls like you. You get a couple shots of Potassium Pentothal and you’ll be screaming your answers.”

Jensen noted that she knew what Potassium Pentothal was and saw her face pale.

“I saw Jared this morning,” she said, softly.

Jensen let go of her neck, watching as she started to rub his neck. “Why did he contact you?”

“He hired me to get train routes through California.”

“Which train routes?”

“He didn’t specify,” she said, looking at him. “I gave him all of the military cargo train routes for this month.”

“What else?”

“There was nothing else,” she said, sharply.

Jensen didn’t believe her. She was an information broker and she dealt with men a hell of a lot scarier than him on a daily basis. He knew she had a vast network, that she could get her hands on anything for a price, and that she knew how to play the game. It made her a dangerous player. Jared always did know how to cultivate his assets; only time would tell if she remained loyal to him. Jensen stood up, waving his hand towards her bedroom suite. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to CTC for further questioning.”

He looked up at Chad, motioning for him to follow her into the bedroom suite.

“I’d like a little bit of privacy, if you don’t mind,” she snapped at Chad.

Chad drawled, “I don’t mind one bit.”

Jensen looked around the living room area and picked up her Blackberry, scanning through the contacts list. He saw Jared’s name listed a number of times. He checked her phone book, scrolling through a very long list of names. He pulled out his own Blackberry and pressed a few commands on her phone, sending her entire contact list to his Blackberry.

Military train routes? What the hell was Jared into?

***

Counter Terrorism Center

Jensen walked into CTC headquarters, Chad bringing Alona Tal in behind him. He looked to see Chad handing her over to the security guards, taking her to the holding cells. Jensen brought the laptop case and Blackberry to Mike’s station, setting it on his desk.

“This belongs to Alona Tal,” he said, looking at Mike. “See what you can find out about military cargo train routes for this month – starting with all of the ones for today.”

Mike nodded. “I’ll let you know what I can find.”

“Thanks.”

“Jensen! We’ve got the chemical analysis of the Improvised Explosive Device used in the train bombing,” Tom said, walking towards him. “Mike, can you put it on the screen? I sent the data to your work station.”

Mike tapped quickly on his keyboard and Jensen turned to look at the screen, frowning at the familiar break down of the chemical compound. The 3-D pictograph of the chemical breakdown and noticed a familiar pattern of 3,3,6,6,9,9-hexamethyl-1,2,4,5,7,8-hexaoxocyclononane.

“Acetone Peroxide. London…the 2005 bombings.”

Tom nodded. “We found trace amounts from the IED from the train wreckage.”

“That’s a signature bomb,” he murmured to Tom. “There’s only a handful of bomb makers who uses Acetone Peroxide.”

Tom nodded. “Anyone you know?”

Jensen knew someone. “He’s one of Jared’s contacts.” He closed his eyes, tracking through his memory. “Lindberg.”

“Tyler Lindberg – Chad Tyler Lindberg. Yeah, I know that asshole,” Tom said, keying his Blackberry. “I’ve sent you his home address. Lindberg lives in Los Angeles now. I’ve started to flag every one of Jared’s past contacts still on the west coast and from what I’ve been able to find, Jared’s been very busy the last few months.”

“Thanks. Keep me posted,” Jensen said, looking up into Jeffrey Dean’s second floor office. He could see Jeffrey Dean pacing, shaking his head at Misha. “What the hell’s been going on around here?”

“Misha Collins has been questioning every single decision made by Morgan,” Tom revealed, softly. “Word has it that Collins can take over CTC directives with White House authority.”

”What?” Jensen said, shaking his head. “We’re in the middle of an investigation.”

“He thinks that we’re compromised because of your former relationship with Padalecki,” Tom said, straightforwardly. “Morgan’s trying to keep you in the field; Collins wants you recalled to inactive status.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jensen said, scowling.

“Look, get back out on the street with tactical,” Tom said, looking up at the second floor offices. “I’ll keep sending you updates.”

“I’ll go after Lindberg.”

“Watch your back, Jensen.”

Jensen nodded, looking up at Morgan’s office and then he looked at Tom. “You, too. Make sure Mike doesn’t lose his access at Comm.”

“Will do.”

Jensen heads back to the Armory. He pulls off his necktie and changes out of his suit to his field clothes – dark cargo pants, gray Henley, and his battered leather jacket. He changes out his clip on the Sig and reloads his weaponry, taking a few spares with him and tucking them into his various pockets. He checks his Blackberry and sees the address that Tom sent to him.

“Murray!” Jensen called, snapping the new clip into his gun and holstering his weapon. “Gear up. I have the whereabouts of the bomb maker.”

***

Hancock Park  
Los Angeles

Inside the beautiful white stucco mansion, Chad Tyler Lindberg was lounging on the plush white S-shaped couch wearing nothing but his boxers and an unbuttoned blue Oxford shirt. He grinned as the busty blonde shimmied against him, pressing her silk covered breasts against his chest. She was his favorite and her $5,000 a day price tag was worth every single penny.

Ashley kissed him slowly, her hands moving down his side and towards the waistband of his boxers. She tasted like little girl lip gloss and smelled like sugar. He reached down, cupping her firm little ass in the palms of his hands.

“Come on, baby,” he murmured, grinning at her.

“What do you want for an appetizer?”

“I—“

He pulled Ashley hard against him, covering what he could of her from the flying glass.

“Ohmygod!” Ashley screamed, trembling against him. “I don’t want to die!”

Lindberg stared as three men came through the shattered glass doorframe, holding semi-automatic weapons in their hands.

“Holy shit!”

***

Jensen pulled the half-naked woman from off of Lindberg, carrying her away from the broken glass shards on the carpet. He deposited her in the custody of one of the tactical team officers outside of the living room area. “Let her get dressed and get her statement.”

He turned towards Lindberg, looking at the thin and slender man. Lindberg looked like he was just a college kid, but Jensen knew him better than that. Inside that happy-go-lucky college kid exterior lived a soulless collaborator who made millions off the blood of the innocent.

“Who the fuck are you? What’re you doing, busting into my house like this!” Lindberg shouted at him.

“I’m Jensen Ackles with the CTC.”

“What the fuck is—“

“I want Jared’s laundry list,” Jensen said, gazing at him.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, man,” Lindberg said, smirking.

“I don’t have time to play games today. I need to know what Jared’s got.”

“Fuck off.”

Jensen grabbed a pen from the coffee table and then a handful of Lindberg’s sandy colored hair with his other hand. He pulled off the cap of the ballpoint with his teeth, spitting it on the floor. He pressed the tip of the pen just under Lindberg’s right eye. It wasn’t the threat of pain that made people break; it was the very real horror of losing the eye or another part of the body that broke even the strongest of men.

“I’ll take just one of your eyes,” Jensen said, staring at him. “The best bomb makers need perfect vision, don’t they? What’s going to happen to your business if I take one of your eyes? Maybe I’ll take both of them if you don’t tell me what I fucking want to know.”

“Jesus, don’t do this, man, please,” Lindberg said, shaking his head. He looked past Jensen’s shoulder to plead his case to Chad. “Come on, man, you’re going to just stand there and watch him do this! This is wrong! This is crossing the line!”

Chad shrugged. “You killed 36 kids today, man. I didn’t see him do shit all to you.”

“I didn’t—“

“Hey! Pay attention, Lindberg. I’m only going to say this once more – I don’t have time to play games.” Jensen carefully enunciated his last few words, letting the meaning sink in.

Jensen saw Lindberg hesitate, could see the young man’s mind trying to find an out. He dug the tip of the pen against the edge of the eye socket and Lindberg screamed, trying to scramble away from him.

“Fuck! All right! I’ll tell you! Just fucking stop! Stop!”

Jensen eased off on the pressure, watching Lindberg carefully.

“I made five bombs for him – custom made with acetone peroxide.”

“Why did he want them? What are the next attacks?”

Lindberg was shivering, shaking his head. “He didn’t tell – and I didn’t ask, man! I never ask! It’s just a business transaction, that’s all!”

Jensen stared intensely into Lindberg’s blue eyes, seeing only fear. He released Lindberg, sighing deeply. “We’re taking you into custody.”

“What for? Come on, man,” Lindberg said, laughing incredulously. “I just gave up the name of my client! If this gets out—“

“Your bomb making career is over, Lindberg,” Jensen said, harshly. “You’re an accomplice to today’s train bombing. Your bomb killed innocent people today – you killed children. This isn’t some war zone; you let your bombs kill civilians. It’s all over.”

***

Chad had sent Lindberg ahead in the SUV with his tactical team. Jensen sat beside him, staring out at the road ahead. What the hell was Jared doing? It didn’t make sense: the train bombing, killing innocent bystanders, military cargo train routes, and ordering 5 signature bombs that were absolutely traceable. Jared knew that CTC would do a chemical analysis and that they’d be able to find the maker. The more he thought about it, the less it made any sense.

“Would you have taken out his eye?”

Jensen didn’t turn to look at Chad. “Yes.”

“You really are a cold-hearted bastard, aren’t you?”

Jensen gave him a small grin. Before he could answer, Chad’s cell phone rang. Jensen watched as Chad reached over to cell phone holder on his dashboard, hitting the speaker button.

“Murray.”

“Chad, it’s Jeffrey Dean, is Jensen with you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m here, Jeffrey,” Jensen said towards the cell phone. “The tactical team is bringing in Tyler Lindberg. They are en route to CTC.”

“Good, we’ll be ready to receive him.”

Jensen could hear the tension in Jeffrey Dean’s voice. “Is something wrong?”

“The White House offered Alona Tal immunity for her information on Jared,” Jeffrey Dean said, slowly. “And she’s given a statement that implicates you.”

Jensen stared at the cell phone. “What?”

“She said that you and Jared have planned this out from the start; that Jared leaving CTC was all a part of it.”

“You can’t believe her, she’s lying.”

“There’s no doubt of that,” Jeffrey Dean said.

Jensen looked over at Chad. “We’re headed back to CTC and we’ll get this squared away.”

“See you soon.”

Chad reached over the ended the call. “I’m sure it’ll be all right, Jensen.”

Jensen watched as Chad slowed down to stop at a stop sign. Quickly, he reached over and wrapped his arm around Chad’s neck, squeezing tight.

“Jen…Jensen…what the fuck…”

“Just let it go, Chad.”

“…you in on this…with Jay…”

“I’m sorry,” Jensen said, feeling Chad struggling. But the seatbelt kept him in place as Jensen applied just the right amount of pressure against the artery in his neck. “Stop struggling. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jensen felt Chad fall unconscious, the SUV rolling to the curb and stopping. Jensen checked Chad’s pulse and left the SUV quickly. He moved around to the driver side, unhooking Chad from the seatbelt and carrying him out of the SUV to the side of the road. He left Chad on the grass, taking his weapon with him. He reached into the SUV and pulled off Chad’s cell phone from the dashboard holder and left it in Chad’s tac vest.

Jensen got into the driver’s side and pulled on his seatbelt. He put the SUV into gear and checked the street, driving quickly away.

He pulled out his Blackberry and found the number on his contact list, making the call.

***

Good Samaritan Hospital  
Downtown Los Angeles

Jared walked into the hospital wearing blue hospital scrubs. He carried a small back pack over his left shoulder. He saw a harried doctor, talking loudly into his cell phone, coming towards him. Jared bumped into his shoulder, slipping off his hospital ID.

“Hey, doc, sorry, man,” Jared said, hurrying away.

“Tall jerk,” the doctor called after him.

Jared clipped the hospital badge to his scrubs and continued through the hospital. He found the emergency staircase at the end of the hallway and opened the door, looking around to make sure it was clear, and closed the door behind him.

He took the stairs to the basement level and walked to the doors to the maintenance areas. He slid the stolen badge through the scanner, watching the light turn from red to green. Walking slowly and carefully, checking to make sure that he was alone, Jared made his way towards a series of low lying pipes and knelt down, slinging the back pack carefully off his shoulder. He opened it and took out the small explosive device. He set the timer to 20 minutes and pressed a series of button to start the countdown.

As the digital screen started to count down from 20:00, Jared tucked the bomb under the pipes, hiding it effectively, and then stood up to leave the maintenance area.

***

Outside, he walked towards the ground level parking lot, using his remote to unlock the vehicle. He opened the door and tossed his back pack inside and then got in behind the steering wheel.

His cell phone started to hum and he pulled it from his pocket, looking at the small screen. Incoming call. Caller ID unavailable.

Jared let the phone hum again and he flipped it open, pressing the cell phone to his ear.

“Jared.”

Jared closed the door and sat in the quiet of his car.

“Jared, I know it’s you.” Jensen said, softly. “I just want to know what the hell is going on. Why’ve you set me up?”

“You found Alona.”

“And Lindberg. Come on, this is sloppy, even for you.”

“I’m very busy right now, Jen, this isn’t a good time.”

“Don’t hang up, Jared,” Jensen said, his voice tense and low. “Tell me where your next bomb is set to go off so I can stop it. Give me that much.”

Jared docked the phone to his dashboard, hitting the speaker button. He inserted the key to start the engine of his car. “It’s not that simple, Jensen.”

“You have four bombs left,” Jensen said into his ear. “What’re you targeting next? Schools? Malls? Stadiums? Come on, just let me know what’s next.”

Jared pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the main street. “Hospital. You have less than 20 minutes, Jen.”

“Which hospital, Jared? Give me a little more information!”

Jared watched the traffic and turned onto Whilshire Avenue, merging with the steady flow of cars.

“I know you’re not a killer.”

“I am a killer. Our government trained me to be a damn good one.” Jared let out a short laugh. “Jensen…you really don’t know what is going on, do you? You think you know the answers, you think you can guess my motives, but you don’t know what I have to do.”

“I want to understand.”

“That’s so sweet, babe,” Jared said, chuckling again. “But look, I got to go now. It’s been great talking to you. We have to do it again, real soon.”

Before Jensen could say anything more, Jared reached over the ended the call on his cell. He turned off Whilshire and headed north of the city.

***

Jensen was parked along the side of the road, his hazard lights flashing. He pressed the end call button on his Blackberry and then pressed it against his ear.

“Did you get that, Mike?”

“Good Samaritan Hospital on Whilshire Avenue.”

“Thanks, Mike,” Jensen said, relieved. “Call the LA bomb squad and contact the hospital to begin their evacuation.”

“Will do.”

He hit the hazard button to turn the lights off and merged back into traffic, heading for the downtown district. “I’m just a few minutes away.”

“I hope you’ll find it,” Mike said, softly.

“Send me the blue prints to the hospital – especially all the lower levels and maintenance areas,” Jensen said, ending the call. He sped quickly down the highway, changing lanes and driving on the shoulder. He could see the downtown ramp just ahead. His fingers tensed on the steering wheel and he prayed that he wasn’t going to be too late.

***

Counter Terrorism Center

Mike looked up to see Chad storm into CTC. Jeffrey Dean and Misha met him right away. Mike can’t hear what they’re saying, but he didn’t need to. When Chad called in for a pick up, everyone heard that Jensen had knocked him out and taken the SUV. It wasn’t common knowledge that Alona Tal claimed that Jensen was in on the terrorist attack today, but enough people knew what was going on.

He watched as Chad was excused by Misha and Misha turning to Jeffrey Dean, basically handing him his walking papers. Jeffrey Dean slammed his CTC access badge in Misha’s hand and was escorted out of the building.

Fuck.

Mike knew that Jensen wasn’t part of any terrorist group. In all the years that he worked at CTC, he had learned to trust Jensen – even when he went off book and took matters in his own hands. Mike trusted Jensen and knew what Jensen needed.

He found the hospital blue prints and sent them to Jensen’s Blackberry.

“Everyone! Could I have your attention!” Misha called, walking to the center of the room. People stopped to look at Misha. “I know that today has been a difficult day and all of you have shown to be loyal to the mission. Our priority has not changed – protocols are in place to keep all of our resources and assets on finding Jared Padalecki and preventing another attack. I want everyone to also focus on finding Jensen Ackles. As of this minute, CTC is declaring Jensen Ackles rogue and a possible accomplice to Jared Padalecki. I want everyone to keep working their stations and I want an update on your protocols in 15 minutes. Thank you.”

Mike sent Jensen a text message: Rogue status. CTC protocol. On your own.

***

Good Samaritan Hospital  
Downtown Los Angeles

Jensen pulled into the entrance of the hospital and parked his car where he could, getting out quickly. It was a madhouse. Hospital staff and patients streamed out of the entrances, a few LAPD officers trying their best to get a handle on the situation. Jensen could see the LA bomb squad and SWAT teams gearing up and working crowd control. A news crew van pulled up behind him and Jensen closed the door to the SUV, pushing past people to get inside the hospital.

He held out his CTC badge and prayed that the LAPD were too distracted to have gotten the word that he was rogue status. Arrest on sight.

“Hey! Officer! I need to get inside right this minute!” Jensen shouted, holding up his badge. “Field Ops. CTC!”

“Yeah, you can go,” one of the officers said, waving Jensen through.

Jensen ran inside, ducking past the flood of people evacuating the building. He pressed close against the wall, pulling the Blackberry from his pocket. He downloaded the hospital blue print, scanning it for the entrance to the basement levels.

He spotted the emergency stairwell door and pushed through the crowd, making his way to the door.

Once inside the stairwell, he jumped down the short flight of stairs to the lower level, avoiding the crush of people coming down the stairs to exit the building. He moved into the basement hallway, checking the blue print on his Blackberry screen, until he found the secured door to the maintenance area.

“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbled to himself. He pulled out his gun and covered his face as he shot at the security panel twice. He kicked the door in and hurried inside.

Jensen stared at the maintenance area, the wall panels, the low ground pipes, the ceiling pipes, and the other areas where Jared could have planted the bomb. He let his instincts take him into the room, eyes moving quickly at every possible crevice or ledge where a small IED could be set and hidden.

He checked his watch. He had less than 3 minutes remaining to find the bomb.

Frantically, Jensen looked around, walking to the vents and pulling on the locked gratings. He checked the ground level pipes, looking for anything – something to catch his eye. He passed a section of industrial vents, looking past the fans to look for anything.

His eyes kept moving along the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the pipes and – he stopped, back tracking to a set of low ground pipes. He ran to it when he saw a small object lodged under the pipes.

Jensen slid to his knees and grabbed the bomb. He pulled it gently out from under the pipes, taking what little time he had left. The digital read out was counting down: 3…2…1…0…

Jensen held the bomb tightly in his hands, closing his eyes. He held his breath, waiting for the flash of intense heat and pain and death.

“Damn you, Jared!”

Nothing.

Jensen opened his eyes, letting out a breath of relief. The digital read out blinked at 00:00 but nothing happened. It was a dud. He looked it over carefully, seeing that the incendiary device was not connected to the trigger. What the hell? Why did Jared use a dud? Jared was well versed in bomb making and he would’ve known that it was a dud – did he not connect the trigger on purpose?

But why would he blow up a train but save the hospital? Unless the hospital wasn’t a true target – a red herring for Jensen and CTC…

“Stop! Put your hands where I can see them!”

“Put it down, asshole! Hands up!”

Jensen turned his head to see two LA SWAT officers pointing their laser sights on his chest. He placed the dud on the ground, raising his hands slowly.

5:00 PM PST


End file.
